breaking candy hearts
by calloutyoru
Summary: Murasakibara is sure about two things. One, he hates Kiyoshi Teppei. Two, he loves candy. Kiyo/Mura. Cotton candy fluffish. One-shot.


**Title**: .breaking candy hearts.

**Disclaimer**: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

**Rating**: M

**Genre**: Fluff; the cavity-inducing sort, with a spoonful of naughtiness.

**Setting**: In universe, sometime post Yosen vs. Seirin Winter Cup match.

**Warnings**: Manga-based (and might therefore contain spoilers for non-readers). BL content. Mildly sadistic Kiyoshi. Daft Mukkun.

**A/N**: This is a belated birthday/early Christmas gift for _thuya_; who's the only person I'd venture into Kiyoshi/Mura territory for. ILU.

******Thank you**: _EudaimonArisornae_, for beta-reading.

* * *

**. ****. .**

Murasakibara hated Kiyoshi Teppei.

It was one of those unchangeable facts etched in stone; just like the earth would not suddenly start to spin in reverse direction, the stars would not turn pink and Aka-chin would not suddenly take up knitting for a hobby—Murasakibara would not cease to loathe the smiles and persistence that was the essence of Kiyoshi.

Given this, it was absolutely not because of him Murasakibara went all the way to Tokyo each weekend lately. He had his own, sugar-oriented reasons for going, mind, and it had nothing to do with the annoying center of Seirin High. Really, he just came because of the sweet shops. That stupid video game challenge was completely unrelated (although it was admittedly rather fun kicking Kiyoshi's ass over and over); it was not like he was looking forward to it.

He was certainly not _expecting_ a text message as soon as he got off the train.

"_Please come and play at my place today~"_

Murasakibara stared at the screen of his cell phone, stifling a yawn. As if. He had more important matters to attend; namely, checking out the new snack shop in Shibuya. He lazily flicked the phone closed and stuffed it into the pocket of his overalls, starting to walk down the street.

The 'Little Kitty theme song' resounded in his pocket again.

"I'm not going," Murasakibara mumbled as he fished out the phone anew, eyebrow twitching.

"_I have plenty of nerunerunerune."_

"..."

The violet haired teen stopped in his tracks, eyes running over that word repeatedly. It was not like he was tempted to go or anything, it was just funny Kiyoshi would mention the thing he craved the most just now. Only thinking about it made his mouth water.

Just as he thought he had better shut his phone off, the screen blinked again.

"_Peach flavoured, too."_

**. . . **

"I'm home," Murasakibara mumbled habitually as he entered Kiyoshi's house, not bothering to knock or ring the bell. He had not come here a whole lot of times or anything, it was just that he had learned by now, that whenever the Seirin player called him over, he would be alone, and the door would be open. Murasakibara scratched his head, looking around the hallway. Usually, that idiot would be around to greet him with an irritatingly wide smile as soon as he appeared, though.

The first time he had come here had been a coincidence; a spontaneously issued video game challenge and some well-placed taunts he had not been able to ignore. As he was a natural talent came to gaming (and sort of inept at disregarding such a deadly important challenge), Murasakibara had dragged himself over; intent on crushing Kiyoshi Teppei's fighting spirit, mercilessly, once and for all. He had defeated him, alright. The sight of Kiyoshi's character running out of HP would have been heavenly if it was not for the unconcerned face the other boy had been making. Far from dejected, the jerk had looked almost _happy_ as he admitted defeat, upon light-heartedly inviting him to come play again.

He had declined, of course.

Murasakibara crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly utterly vexed. In hindsight, it did not make much sense. He had won that first time, and he had won every single time after that, and so logically already gotten his retaliation for what transpired during the Winter Cup. Although the sheer thought of that match admittedly still had him gritting his teeth in frustration, it did not quite explain why the hell he ended up here more oft than not lately, playing video games with that annoying moron.

Himuro had once referred to Kiyoshi as 'a friend of Atsushi's', which had honestly baffled him. In the first place, Murasakibara did not really have any friends. Apart from Muro-chin, there were not many people who sought his company, and he was not exactly making any efforts on his part. He guessed it made him rather the anti-social person, but he could not care less. Still, he suspected Himuro viewed them as friends, and although he was not sure he understood the entire concept of friendship, he sort of rolled with it.

The Yosen center was sure however, that Kiyoshi Teppei did _no_t fall under the 'friend category'. He was a different affair altogether, and if Murasakibara was forced to put it into words he might have reluctantly named him a rival or arch-nemesis even (or better still, an infliction)—something along those lines. A kind of irritating, nagging existence fraying at his nerves, itching incessantly as he remembered that impossibly warm smile Kiyoshi would shot him, whether he was losing or winning.

Murasakibara stepped out of his shoes, shrugging. _I'll wipe that infuriating expression off your face, sooner or later. _Mercifully, his sugar craving was kicking in at full force, wiping his mind clean of the troublesome buzz of thoughts/slightly murderous intentions.

As he sauntered towards the kitchen, absent-mindedly wondering where Kiyoshi was, he spotted something sparkly at the lowest step of the staircase. Walking closer, he reflexively reached out and picked it up; a strawberry sweet in pink wrappers. Thoughtlessly, the purple haired teen opened it and popped it into his mouth. It was chewy and delicious.

Now when he surveyed the staircase more closely he noticed there were more sweets wrapped in multicoloured papers scattered about the steps. Murasakibara recognised melon soda sweets, lemon & pineapple, pear, lichi, coconut & ginger... He collected them all as he climbed the stairs, stuffing his pockets with those he did not immediately eat.

When he reached the top of the stairs he looked around. The trail of sweets continued down the corridor, all the way to the door at the end of it—the door to Kiyoshi's room. Murasakibara raised an eyebrow, thinking that the other boy was truly idiotic for being so careless with candy. There was obviously a hole in his bag.

The Yosen player gave a shrug before bending down to gather the sweets at his feet. _Finders, keepers_, he figured. Once he reached Kiyoshi's door his pockets were overfilled with different flavoured sweets, and so was his mouth. Not minding the fact he looked every bit a chipmunk preparing for hibernation, Murasakibara slammed the door open, reckoning whatever was the source of the candy trail must be inside.

His jaws paused their incessant chewing for a heartbeat.

Kiyoshi Teppei was sitting cross-legged on the floor, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, surrounded by piles of video games and sweets in all shapes and sizes spread haphazardly about the room. He looked up as Murasakibara flung the door opened, looking vaguely surprised but most of all annoyingly elated as his face split in a welcoming grin.

"Atsushi-kun, you're already here!" he exclaimed happily, scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't hear you, I was looking for this game I knew you'd like and..."

"Why're you naked?" Murasakibara interjected, swallowing the rest of the green apple sweets in his mouth.

"Huh? I'm not," Kiyoshi objected, pointing downwards. "I'm wearing pants."

Murasakibara had an irrational urge to scowl. Somehow, the abundance of tanned skin and muscles Kiyoshi currently presented ticked him off a little. His thoughts were straying from their one directed lane down candy-avenue at the sight, even.

"You're weird," he stated flatly.

"Ahaha," Kiyoshi laughed apologetically, getting to his feet. "I was taking a shower just before, and since it's so hot I thought I could stay like this for a while... I didn't realise you'd come so soon after I sent the text."

"You said you had nerunerunerune," Murasakibara muttered, looking away from the other boy's bare chest. He still felt undecidedly bothered and it was really irritating. It was not like he had hurried to come here or anything. "I wouldn't have come otherwise."

Kiyoshi laughed again, the sound causing a vein in the Yosen player's temple to throb faintly.

"Figures," he said between chuckles. "Well, I'm glad I said that then, since you're here now."

Murasakibara really did not like being laughed at, or at all being the subject of someone else's amusement. Not even trying to mask his displeasure, he kept silent and gaze averted, scanning the room for the nerunerunerune. He broke into a habitual pout when he did not spot it, lower lip unconsciously jutting out.

"Hnn? Did I make you angry, Atsushi-kun?"

Kiyoshi's voice was kindly worried, but laced with something else too; a certain hint of darkness Murasakibara could not fully grasp. In truth, that enigmatic part of the Seirin center had always brought him a little off balance in ways he did not care to acknowledge, and thus usually just ignored.

As this half-naked, impossible-to-understand person moved closer to him now, Murasakibara felt strangely uncertain of his intentions; and conspicuously aware of his state of undress. It defied reason, but as Murasakibara was practically an expert within the field, he was positive Kiyoshi's very skin was emanating quite an irresistible scent of flower kiss candy.

_The hell?_

"..."

"If I'm making you uncomfortable I'll put on a t-shirt," Kiyoshi offered softly, the smile very much audible in his voice.

"I don't care!" Murasakibara snapped, and he was surprised himself at the sudden outburst as he turned his gaze back towards the other boy. Kiyoshi looked mildly surprised, eyebrows apprehensively furrowed as he regarded him. "Why would I," the purple haired teen went on, falling into his usual drone. "Whether you're stark naked or in a bear costume won't make a freaking difference. I just want my candy."

For a beat, silence reigned as Kiyoshi looked at him with slightly widened eyes, before a smile broke through again, painting his features with carelessness, and that goddamn warmth. Murasakibara narrowed his eyes, considering making some sort of threat in order to get the sweets already, but was stalled by the rumbling laughter racking through the Seirin player's taut body.

"You're such a brat, Atsushi-kun," he breathed between bursts of laughter, and before Murasakibara had the chance to make either a rebuke or an (presumably elementary-school-level) insult, Kiyoshi went and did something really, really weird. He reached up and treaded his fingers through his hair, only to tug fondly at his bangs so that Murasakibara was forced to lean in a little closer... and _chuu_; their lips were softly pressing together.

It was peculiar, very warm and indistinctly sweet.

Murasakibara did not move. He did not move because it was _delicious_. It really was the flavour of flower kiss candy tainting Kiyoshi's lips, he reflected dazedly. He unthinkingly opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, lapping tentatively at the other boy's lips. He was not expecting Kiyoshi to part them however, but did not complain when he found more of the creamy sweetness on the tongue rolling tenderly against his for a fleeting moment.

They broke apart when Kiyoshi placed a strong hand against his chest, pushing gently. Murasakibara felt oddly out of breath, hot and rather mind-screwed. Blinking, he looked at the other boy, taking in the intense sparkle in his dark eyes.

"You kissed me," he said, as the thought hit him. "Why?"

"Who knows? Maybe because I thought you were cute," Kiyoshi said calmly. His smile did not conceal the intensiveness of his stare. Murasakibara gave him a long, incredulous look.

"Have you hit your head or something? I'm taller than you."

"So?"

"So?! I'm obviously not cute. Cut the crap," Murasakibara stated with what he thought was finality, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down at Kiyoshi, summoning the kind of imposing aura he knew scared the shit out of most people around him. Had he thought about it for a second however, he would not have bothered—since he knew full well that Kiyoshi Teppei was not one of those.

Kiyoshi shrugged, predictably unfazed.

"I always had a weak spot for kids... Especially the bratty ones," he admitted, sounding a little thoughtful.

"I'm not a kid either!" Murasakibara bristled, feeling thoroughly nettled. The other boy was throwing him off in more ways than he cared to count. What was worse, the tinge of creamy sweetness lingered sinuously at the tip of his tongue, and his body and mind were currently in the middle of a full out battle concerning what he ought to do about that.

His body was painfully clear about its standpoint. It wanted _more_.

And his mind—his mind was a somewhat bruised ego and a vague sense of wariness. He had never quite seen Kiyoshi like this out of the court, and no matter how he saw it there was something fundamentally different about him today. As in, he was definitely up to something. A faint voice in the back of his head reminded him of certain things being said about Iron Heart; things relating to his unexpectedly calculating side.

"So you say," Kiyoshi murmured, reaching out and cupping Murasakibara's chin with a warm hand. The touch was startlingly gentle. "Yet you keep crying for candy."

Murasakibara hated Kiyoshi Teppei.

He was stifling and unpredictable and utterly repugnant; and now he was drowning in his unwavering gaze without so much as sick bag at hand. His body would not move. Words were failing him, refused to string together as they should and gathered in a knot of frustration in his throat. His heart was engaged in some incomprehensible sort of freak out; jumping and pounding erratically against his ribcage. Maybe it was doing aerobics, Murasakibara thought. He had always thought it looked out of control when his sisters did it in front of the TV.

"Funny thing is," Kiyoshi continued lowly, smiling at his lack of response. "I don't dislike that part of you."

Murasakibara hated how he said that as though it solved every damn problem in the world (including the compatibility issues between his monthly allowance and snack consumption), and he wanted to shout it out, but the hand against his chin, burning, and the eyes boring into him, flaming; kept him silent and rooted to the spot. Something was fluttering in a sickening way down the pit of his stomach, and he was overtaken by the violent urge to taste flower kiss candy lips again. If not to still his sugar craving, then at least in order to prevent the world from spinning any faster.

_So dizzy. _

As though the other boy could tell what he was thinking, his lips quirked up in a small, knowing smile. He off-handedly leaned in and kissed Murasakibara again, bringing about a small, not-at-all-unpleasant explosion of flavours and tickles against the violet haired teen's lips. Sensory cells were breaking out in jubilations as his tongue tasted cream and fruits and sugar again, and he felt weirdly relieved as rationality (if such thing existed in the first place) dwindled into a state of nullity.

Whatever.

The Yosen player instinctively pushed the other boy towards the bed and climbed on top of him, mind glazing over totally. It did not matter he had not really been in a similar situation before, it sort of came as natural to Murasakibara to just go with whatever he felt like doing. That, regardless of how stupid it seemed, happened to be kissing Kiyoshi Teppei right now. So, he did. He kissed (or rather _licked_ would be a more accurate description) the other boy's sweet-tasting lips with all the clumsy greed that was the core of his essence.

The Seirin player did not seem to mind. On the contrary, he complied whole-heartedly at the taller boy's somewhat sloppy attentions, strong arms reaching up and wrapping around his neck and pulling him even closer. There was a fleeting moment when Murasakibara thought he heard him making a sound suspiciously like a content chuckle, but the thought was quickly tossed aside as their crotches rubbed together; and the Yosen center was faced with something he had not quite taken into consideration.

He was _straining_.

Kiyoshi on the other hand, appeared unperturbed and not in the least surprised. He groaned appreciatively at the friction, and demonstratively rolled his hips upwards so that Murasakibara could _feel_ his throbbing approval with ungodly clarity. The purple haired teen emitted a small moan; helplessly, _weirdly_. He had not known he could make sounds like that.

Next thing he knew, he was flipped over on his back; the roles reversed.

Despite being the taller of the two, Mursakibara could not confidently say he was the strongest. Kiyoshi's appearance was deceiving in more ways than one, and he actually possessed a monstrous strength. The Yosen player knew this out of experience, from being his opponent on the basketball court. That was far from the point right now however; as it was he felt rather drained of power altogether. Even Sa-chin would probably have been able to take him down in his current state. With a forehead flick.

He found himself looking up into startlingly intense eyes, so dark he could just barely discern the smoky swirls of want circling the blown-out pupils. Kiyoshi's normally bright face was in the shadows, fringe falling messily over his brow, and his usual ever-smiling expression replaced by sharp, predatory lines; revealing an overpowering aura of unadulterated _dominance_.

_Shivers._

This was new. It was as though someone had sent a firefly on rampage within the core of Murasakibara's spine. It was definitely not normal. His ability to think was ebbing away at an alarming speed courtesy of that look, and the voice in the back of his head, telling him he ought to revolt, was so damn _distant_. His mouth was suddenly very dry.

"What are you doing?" he managed, the words scraping strangely at his throat, the thunder of his heart muting the sound of his voice. Did he even say something?

The shadow of a smile, although not at all similar to his usual one, pulled at the corner of the Seirin player's mouth as he loomed over him, only to lean in close and place that mouth just next to his ear. The wonderful scent of his skin flooded Murasakibara's nostrils and he was just about to unthinkingly bite down on the muscled shoulder (so temptingly close), when Kiyoshi's words stalled his actions.

"Something you'll like," he murmured, soft lips grazing Murasakibara's earlobe and warm puffs of air caressing his neck; voice deep and vibrant. Every sultry octave resounded within his head, adding to that weird sense of weakness in his limbs.

It was like in one of those dreams, in which the sense of urgency is overwhelming for one reason or another (in Murasakibara's case it would often revolve around getting to the convenience store in time to get the price deal potato chips), and yet one cannot move. And if one against all odds would manage, the movements are peculiarly heavy and _unbearably slow_; and one is essentially not getting any-freaking-where.

The difference being, that in this case, Murasakibara had no clear idea where he wanted to go.

He was only distantly aware of Kiyoshi's warm hands gripping his wrists, gently forcing them over his head, and the silky material sliding over his skin. It was not until he realised his hands would stay like that even when the other boy let go off him, that he sort of grasped what was happening. A tremble ran through the Yosen player as he tugged gingerly at the bindings, body tensing up as he looked at Kiyoshi in what _should_ have been terror—but was probably closer to dazed incredulity.

"Don't move," Kiyoshi instructed quietly, replying to whatever it was that his face expressed.

_It's not like I can, anyways._

Murasakibara relaxed. Why, he was a notoriously lazy person by nature. He would forever be choosing the easiest route, and letting laziness reign proved the less complicated option in the end. His body sunk down comfortably among the soft pillows, and the only part of him staying unapologetically rigid was that between his legs, aching with the need to be touched.

"I'm hard," he declared, finding his voice as he looked up at the other boy in accusation. "I want to jerk off."

Kiyoshi looked down, his eyes impossibly dark and lips set in a raptorial curve as he wordlessly regarded him for a life-long second. Murasakibara did not know what to make of that expression, but he was painfully aware of his cock's approval as it _twitched_ within his pants, straining against the fabric. He was too wound up in lust to wonder what the hell that was about, even.

"No need," Kiyoshi spoke finally, voice awfully deep and dripping with the dirtiest of innuendos. "Let's do something _sweeter_."

It was a sinfully sticky affair.

**. . . **

"Oi, why're you in expert mode all of a sudden?" Murasakibara wondered, accusingly pointing a plastic spoon still draped in creamy peach flavoured nerunerunerune, at the boy next to him. Somehow, they were back to their usual positions after that small leap out of the box, lazing about on the floor in front of the TV screen.

"Ah, that's..." Kiyoshi trailed off and looked down at his hands, thumbs awkwardly tracing the buttons of the gamepad. "I wanted to challenge myself a little, that's all."

Murasakibara narrowed his eyes.

"But I've been in normal mode all this time... " he muttered suspiciously, a nasty misgiving creeping up on him as his eyes ran over the settings on the screen again. "You... You've been doing this since the beginning, haven't you?"

"Ahahah, well I guess I'm caught with my hands in the cookie-jar," the Seirin player admitted with a laugh, looking up to offer him a mildly resigned look. "How embarrassing~"

The violet haired teen stared, thrown. He did not look embarrassed at all.

"You've been losing on purpose," he spoke as the realisation properly sunk in. "Why?"

Kiyoshi's laughter faded away, and his expression changed into one of gentle wonder. He regarded Murasakibara as though he really thought it self-explanatory.

"Because," he said slowly, voice soft and steady. "You have this tendency of quitting when you lose. Now, I couldn't risk that."

Irritated, the Yosen player stuck the plastic spoon back into his mouth. He was definitely not going to admit that the other boy was sort of right.

"Why not?" he demanded instead, casting him a sidelong glare.

Kiyoshi's features was once again painted with lustrous warmth, that stiflingly happy smile carved into every part of his face, and the violet haired boy wished he had not looked at him at all.

"Because I didn't want you to stop coming here."

Murasakibara hated Kiyoshi Teppei.

He hated his kind smile, he hated his dark eyes, he hated his warm hands. He hated the fact, that up until one hour ago, he had thought himself pretty much incapable of such a thing as self-consciousness. As it was, he felt terribly aware of the flush creeping up his neck, and the furious pounding of his heart as he recalled the taste and feel of Kiyoshi's lips, _all over_. Suddenly, the creamy sweetness of artificial sugar spreading on his tongue was far from enough. He craved indefinitely _more_—with an intensity shaking the very core of his being—of that other kind of sweet.

At this rate, he reckoned he might really develop diabetes.

**. . . **

In a different part of Tokyo, a boy with large eyes and electric crimson hair was comfortably seated in an armchair in front of a fireplace. The flames were lively sparkling and casting a snugly warm ambiance over the room. Just as one should during a Saturday afternoon, the boy felt perfectly relaxed, and unlimitedly pleased with himself.

Granted, he was the best at everything, so he could not really say he had outdone himself. It was not even surprising. Yet, he had to admit, it had not crossed his mind he would be such a born natural come to this kind of thing.

Reflectively leaning back in the chair, Akashi Seijuurou lay the needles aside and admired his handiwork. Across his knees, fluffy and striped with white and baby blue, lay undoubtedly the most perfect scarf ever knitted by a Japanese high schooler.

**. . .**

_Fin._


End file.
